Tales of Terror: Dib and the Blair Witch
by SaintHeartwing
Summary: Dib is determined to go into the forest where he's heard tales of the Blair Witch. Determined to put an end to her. Needless to say...things aren't going to go exactly as planned. Because there's something lying in wait in the woods...as most strange things do.


**In honor of the Halloween season, I present to you this little story featuring my beloved favorite Invader Zim character, Dib, ladies and gents! Hope you all have a very Happy Halloween! Also, yes, I am an immensely huge Blair Witch fan. I got inspired to write this after playing the new game from Blooper Team. Enjoy!**

* * *

The forest is an encompassing abyss. It stretches out for miles and miles, and the further in you go, the less you hear and the less you see besides the dark recesses around you. Eventually, no birds will chirp. No squirrels will call out. There will be no rustling of leaves of small creatures hiding from your gallumphing feet. There is nothing but you.

Until you hear the tree branch snap and now you're not alone.

That was the story I had heard over and over again. There was...something...out in the expanse. Living out in the dark depths of the woods. And I was determined to find it.

The skies were a quilt of dark grey, little sunlight poking overhead, and barely anything making its way through the forest canopy above. I wore my usual dark jacket and dark blue t-shirt underneath, adjusting the glasses on my face as I lifted the backpack up onto my back and walked away from my bicycle. I'd securely locked it up against a fence that was in front of the opening to the woods, a wind beginning to pick up and to waft against my black, scythe-like hair as I went off into the deep forest, armed with all I needed.

I had my flashlight and extra batteries, the light a gift, an Army style flashlight from my dad as a Christmas gift, big, thick, black and heavy. I had my usual black boots on, I had bags of snacks, a lighter, electric, and some match boxes. I had brought several water bottles and something to convert river or lake water into drinkable water too. I was going to make it through the woods, and I was going to find her.

I was going to find the Blair Witch.

The stories had been going back as far as I can remember. There'd been...tales...about what happened in the Black Hills woods near Burkittsville, Maryland. The place had been haunted by tales of a horrifying witch that laid lurking in the dark recesses of the forest. She'd stolen children away, she'd gotten a man named Rustin Parr to do murder, and if you went into the forest, there was a good chance you never, ever came back out. Ever. There'd even been talk about a...house. A house that had...

...something...inside it.

But that house had long since been torn down, and something had happened when it did. The woods had caught fire. There was thick, foul, black smoke billowing up into the skies and screaming, endless, horrifying screaming shrieking from the forest as the people of Burkittsville watched on. The footage I've seen is too horrifying and too real to be discounted.

But the thing is...there was something...moving...in the smoke. Just faintly visible you could almost see if you squinted, and tilted your head ever so slightly. Like a whisp of a thing out of the corner of your eye, you could almost see it, something that...shouldn't be. And it was big.

Very big.

And there'd been...stories. There were odd stick like figures popping up here and there, in towns and cities by forests, all moving up, up Appalachia. In the very direction the wind had been blowing that day. And I can't help but wonder if something like the Blair Witch can ever truly be destroyed.

I believe she's looking for a new home. I believe she's found it here. Because something is killing the children. Something is coming out of the woods.

Over and over again I hear it whispered in my town.

There's something in the woods.

And I'm going to end it.

I've brought more than just a flashlight.

...

...

...

...the wind is getting slightly colder and I've set up camp. I miss being able to hear birdsong. I miss being able to see the blue skies above. I've been gone for a full two days and the weather hasn't changed. It's not raining, and I was sure the weather app on my phone called for it.

But there's something that's caught my eye even more. I don't understand what it's doing here and what it is, but it's a big, white tree. The hugest cypress I've ever, ever seen. Huge, enormous, big, pale limbs, stretching out like...hands. Many, many hands. There's a few crooks in the tree, swirling about like odd patterns, and a hole, deep, dark and black high up top, too far for me to look into.

I thought it a bad idea to set up camp there, because I heard sounds coming out from it.

Sounds like...whispering.

...there's...something in thesw woods.

SOMETHING.

And a smell. A smell like...Oleander. It's a strong, unforgettable smell, but it's not one associated with good things. It's unlucky, it's creepy, it's unsettling. The very origin of the flower is based off a man named Leander. He would swim to his beloved, a woman named Hero, every night across the mighty Hellespont. But then one night he drowned, and his beloved called his name, "O, Leander! O, Leander" until she found his dead form, the very flower he'd be named for clutched in his hand.

I used to love Greek myths. Now I realize how petty and cruel such gods and goddesses were. What kind of assholes murder an entire family because the mom said their kids were as lovely as the gods? And you wouldn't catch any of those monsters dying for people's sins.

I also used to love reading my little Illustrated Children's Bible. It had cool little historical facts on the sides, showing off pottery or paintings or other things to give you an idea on what ancient life in those days were like, with beautiful illustrations. I'd vividly remember one page, Jesus is on the waters, walking on it, and Peter's trying to walk on it too. He's lost faith though, and sinking, arms above his head, and looking so...terrified.

It was such a HUMAN thing to see, and Jesus, arms outstretched, reaching to comfort and help him. I liked those human moments. I liked being reminded that these were...people. People who wanted answers to the big questions, and who were lucky enough to have someone to ANSWER them, and who was willing to teach them how to answer them too.

I like to read tales like these, even if I think the gods in them are awful, because the people...the PEOPLE I identify with. I want to help them.

All those kids who are just...gone.

They're sinking in the sea. Maybe already sunk.

If I can't pull them out to safety, I can at least get them out of the bottom and bring them home.

I have to try.

I just wish I didn't feel like I was sinking. Because that smell is getting worse and worse, even though I moved my tent far away from that damn tree.

...

...

...

...the tree is...breathing.

I put my hand against it because I thought I saw it was...moving. It looked like it faintly shook, and I had to wipe my glasses. But there was no way. A tree can't move. Trees don't move.

But the tree is breathing. I can feel it pulsing beneath my touch. It's like I'm laying my hand on a hard yet soft chest and hearing someone's heartbeat. The whispering's stopped. The smell has stopped.

But that heartbeat thudding in my ears isn't just my own.

I yank my hand away and I pack up my things, shoving the tent pegs deep into my big backpack and glancing back at that tree only briefly as I move on, and head towards the faint sound of running water. Water always leads to something, I'm going to follow this.

My boots crunch against leaves, the stream in the forest sounding less like a babbling brook and more like dogs growling. The wind was beginning to pick up, and whipping around my hair.

It's not long before at last I reach a small pond and I look into it, standing atop a rock to get a closer look. The skies are getting darker, it looks like we may finally be getting some rain as the faintest droplets begin to splatter across the lake and break its calm surface. At the bottom, I faintly see something past my reflection that looks like a-

...what.

...what.

WHAT.

...that's not fucking possible.

It's not...

Y-You can't...

How...

...I finally manage to finish vomiting and I steady myself against a nearby tree. What's down there isn't even a full body. Someone's...someone took their skin and...and they've weighed it down under rocks and...and...and yet somehow there's some faint bubbles...

The rain is beginning to pour heavily. I don't have time to get the tent out. I make for the tree with the heaviest and thickest branches full of leaves and I get out my umbrella and I lay it atop my shoulder as it covers my head. Who would do something like this? What kind of sick, depraved, foul, rotten, evil...

I don't sleep well that night. In fact, I barely sleep at all. And I hear the cracking of heavy tree branches off in the distance every once in a while, jolting me awake every time I think I'm about to get close. I hate this. I HATE THIS. I HATE. THIS.

It's so cold and horrible. The wind is beginning to pick up, and it's blowing the rain almost right in my face. I can barely keep dry. And I keep hearing those...bubbles. Even with the rain slamming heavy drops onto the lake I keep hearing bubbles.

There's nothing around me but trees and that lake. I keep telling myself that. There is nothing else out here. But even though I keep telling myself that, I don't really believe it.

...

...

...

...that house wasn't there before.

That house. Wasn't. There before.

It WASN'T.

I KNOW it wasn't. I was looking across the little lake before I finally got a few measly hours of slumber and the bubbles had finally faded from my ears. But now it's there. It wasn't there, I know it wasn't there before and now it is.

I find myself going inside, my flashlight held up. I inch further and further inside the dark depths, looking around at the cracked walls of the house. The cobwebs are dustier than the floors. There are dead spiders the size of small rodents lying in every other corner, and the furniture is torn, worn and ripped. There was a chandlier at one point, but it's fallen down along with a bookcase and several chairs, and the wallpaper has begun peeling all over.

I stand stock still and listen. I hear some odd, faint sound coming from the basement and I approach the door leading downstairs, down a rickety flight of steps, and there it is, hanging in front of me.

That...doll. The stick-like doll. A single stick for the spine and "head", one for "arms" stretched horizontally across the central stick. Two sticks for "legs" that also slide up and build a kind of "chest" on the doll.

It's vibrating in my hand. My hand isn't shaking at all but it's pulsating like a beating heart.

I crush it in my grip and I toss it away. I can feel the house shake. But I don't care. I go down further as I smell rotting fungus, the scent permeating my nostrils, wet, heavy and rancid. I reach into my bag as I see so, so many white painted hand prints across the walls, and every step across the floorboards creaks so much-

There's one doorway. ONE doorway that doesn't lad back upstairs and...something's approaching. I can faintly see it, and it's...oh my Lord, it's so HUGE. How can anything be so large and-

No.

NO.

I'm. Not. Afraid of you. I have my backpack. I race forward, and the salt spills forth, as I spread it across the doorway. I turn around, and I reach into my bag. And I clutch it. I clutch my protective talisan. I clutch my book.

I clutch that illustrated Bible, and I hold it tight to my chest. I begin to pray. "Our father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come..."

She wants me to look at her.

"Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven..."

She wants me to turn around and look at her. Look. At. Her. She seems so much louder. Can she be right behind me?

"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who tresspass-"

She's practically breathing down my neck. She's whispering in my ear, her fingers on my spine. Her very presence is overwhelming. How can anything be so HUGE? She...she smells like...oleander...

I'm shouting to drown her out. I'm practically screaming the Lord's prayer. "And lead us not into temptation. But deliver us from evil!"

NO.

NO I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS I WILL NOT PERMIT THIS MUSN'T BE ALLOWED, MUSN'T, MUSN'T, YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT ME YOU HAVE TO-NO, NO I DON'T, I DON'T, I DON'T, GO TO HELL, GO TO HELL, AND YOU STAY THERE-

I turn...

And there is no Blair Witch. There's just an empty basement and salt in a line across a doorway.

Across that doorway I peer into the expanse. And I see a terrified little boy with messy hair clinging to what remains of a school bag. Oh God, it's Melvin from school. He's so frightened. His face is pale, he's sweating, there's some cuts on his bare skin. Someone looks like they were trying to crush his head, blood's dribbling from both sides, the poor guy, and...

And to the side there's...

...oh. Oh no.

Now I know where that...that skin came from.

And there's so many more. Just...just hanging up. Lying around...out to dry.

Well.

Well, I'm not letting this happen.

No.

No way.

Melvin and I gather up as much dry wood as we can. We set it around the house. And I watch as I light the fire, and it spreads. The fire is going higher and higher, licking up, the house slowly burning, dissolving away almost like a giant candle, and I am triumphant. I feel a sense of...giddiness...watching it sink into nothingness before me and Melvin's eyes.

Rot in Hell where you belong and stay there.

I'm heading home. And I'm taking Mevlin back too. First thing's first. A call to the cops. I've got barely any reception but I'm letting them know. There's...enough in the lake and...what remains in the house's burned corpse to identify...others. Melvin sniffles as he gives me his mother and father's number and I give him my cell phone to call them. They're so grateful to me, and I tell them I'm just glad I could help.

We set the tent up, and I tell him the police should be by to pick him up soon. And that night I sleep wonderfully.

...

...

...

... I don't understand.

I just don't understand. When I woke up, there was no one in the tent. There were footprints all around. Adult prints, and Melvin's smaller ones. There's police tape across the lake. I can even faintly hear people speaking off in the distance, talking, but when I try to walk towards them, it's like it's coming from a different direction.

Sometimes I THINK I see them out of the corner of my eye but...

But then they're gone. And it's just whispering. And that smell. That smell of cypress is everywhere, and I don't understand why.

At least, I didn't until I looked down in the water. And I saw what I didn't have. And when I brought my foot down onto the water, out of disbelief, it didn't go through.

...I see now.

I see what you've done.

Damn it. I get it. I get what you've made me. I understand why nobody else can see me anymore.

I understand why I...can't see me anymore.

I get it. I really do.

...

...

...

...I hope whomever's reading this isn't reading it in the forest. I left it as far away from where SHE was. At the front entrance, far as I could go.

Please.

RUN.

Tell everyone to stay away. Because something was killing the children.

Do you understand? Stay out.

Because there's a man in the woods.

And if you don't get out, it will be **you**.

And I would know.

After all, it's what she made me into. The children know. They whisper it in town. Something's coming out of the woods.

And if you don't stay out that something will be me.

And then it will be your turn.

...someone has to be the Blair Witch, after all.

_Tu Fui, Ego Eris._


End file.
